


Sparrow Lane

by Ren_Tager



Category: Horror - Fandom, Original Work, Scary Stories - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 13:22:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21410866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ren_Tager/pseuds/Ren_Tager
Summary: On Halloween night, three teens investigate an abandoned farmhouse. They are aware of the legend that is attached, of the creature that lurks in the depths of the cornfield.They're about to witness it firsthand.





	1. AFTER

The doctors wanted me to write about my experience. But I couldn't. Not because I couldn't remember it, but because I didn't want to. It was too much.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the blood, heard the screams.

"I will never forget what happened that night." I whisper to no one. I curl up in the chair, away from the rest of the group. "It's my fault," I say to the rain that slashes the windows. "He died because of me. I told them it was safe to stay there and wait out the storm, but it wasn't."

The howling wind whistles in response, and thunder cracks overhead.

"I might as well have stuck that sickle in his gut myself."


	2. BEFORE

I waited, messing with my ipod, for my friends, when the door opened and Elena slipped into the passenger seat, her arms full of snacks.

"Good lord," I said, glancing at her. "What is all that?"

"Road trip provisions," she declared, grinning. She turned her head and looked out the window at the gas station doors. "I don't know where Max is."

"Probably getting twinkies," I murmured. "You know how he feels about them."

I turned my attention to the blinking light on my dashboard, when the door opened again, and Max swooped in.

He was, in fact, clutching several boxes. He tore it open and shoved a twinkie into his mouth.

"Onward!" he shouted, leaning over the middle console.

"I should get this checked out," I said, gesturing to the CHECK ENGINE indicator.

"Oh, you're fine. That happens all the time to my car. You can make it, Dom."

I hesitated before choosing to trust him, then I turned onto the road.

I didn't know what awaited us.

But we were going to find out.


	3. AFTER

"How are you feeling?" the nurse asks as she checks my pulse.  
  
"Tired," I answer. "I didn't sleep well last night."  
  
"Well, the doctor can prescribe you something to help with that," she says kindly. "And if you want to see the psychiatrist, we can arrange that as well."  
  
"Okay," I say.  
  
As she leaves, Doctor Wyatt comes in, carrying a clipboard.  
  
"Good morning, Max," he murmurs. "How are you doing?"  
  
"I'm in a mental hospital, how do you think?"  
  
Wyatt pulls a seat up to my bed, all while he adjusts the bandages on my arm. The white gauze is dotted with blood, but it's not seeping through.  
  
"You went through a terrible ordeal, and it's perfectly understandable that you had a breakdown. Have you spoken to Elena?"  
  
I shake my head.  
  
I haven't seen her in months. That's how long I've been in this place.  
  
"She won't talk to me," I reply. "She says it's my fault that he died. She's not wrong. When the cops found us, he was already gone. They couldn't save him."  
  
"It's not your fault." Wyatt touches my arm, and I recoil. "I know what happens at that farmhouse. I've heard the stories. You and your friends are not the first to come across that monster." He's quiet for a moment, his eyes glassy. But then his next words leave me floored. "I lost someone that way as well."


	4. BEFORE

Thunder rumbled overhead as we drove.  
  
"Shit," Elena said, as she checked her phone. "The weather is going to get worse. We might as well turn around. We're late to the concert, anyway."  
  
Silence filled the car.  
  
"Actually, we're not going there," Max said from the backseat.  
  
"Excuse me?" Elena whipped her head around, her brown eyes narrowed. "What do you mean we're not going? Where the hell _are_ we going?"  
  
"To the old farmhouse," I told her, keeping my eyes on the road.  
  
"You're kidding me. It's Halloween. Are you out of your minds? You know what's happened there. You've heard the stories. We all have. Damnit, Max."  
  
"What did I do?" he asked.  
  
"You talked him into this. I'm not going with you."  
  
I glanced at her. "You don't have a choice, El. You're in the car, and I'm not turning back now. We'll be there soon."  
  
"But—" she began.  
  
"Please?" Max pleaded. "It will be fun. Spooky."  
  
"Dangerous," Elena countered. "Stupid."  
  
"Stop," I said. "What's done is done. It'll be fine, El. I promise."  
  
There was a sign up ahead, hanging off its metal pole. As lightning struck and we got closer, I could see the name clearly.  
  
**SPARROW LANE**.  
  
"Well, that's ominous," Max murmured.


	5. AFTER

"You lost someone because of that creature too?" I ask.

"No, you misunderstood me." Wyatt frowns, and wipes his eyes. "I lost someone who couldn't distinguish between fantasy and reality."

In other words, they died because they were crazy.

"I convinced Dom to go," I tell him quietly. "That's why it's my fault."

"He made the choice," Wyatt explains. "Just like you and Elena chose to go with him. You told me Elena didn't want to go, so why did you disregard her opinion?"

"She was scared," I argue. "Everything scares her."

"She had good reason this time," he says. "You knew about the stories of that place. You knew how dangerous it was to go there, and yet you all went. And only two of you came back alive."

I shut my eyes. "I don't want to talk anymore."

"You don't have to talk to me, Max. But you do have to talk to someone."


	6. BEFORE

Max and I exited the car. Elena stayed behind, watching us curiously.

"I told you," he said. "She was going to ruin things. We should just go in without her, or she'll be clinging to us the whole tonight."

He wasn't wrong. I considered it. But I don't know which was worse: leaving Elena alone in the car, or bringing her with us. Both options seem dangerous.

I moved to the car and tapped on the window. She rolled it down and looked up at me.

"Did you change your mind?" she asked, her tone hopeful.

"No," I said, glancing at Max, who looked annoyed. "You have a choice, though. You can either stay here, or come with us into the house."

Elena frowned. "Both of those options seem very unappealing, Dom."

"I know." I reached a hand into the car, and squeezed her shoulder. "I'm sorry we made you come here, it wasn't fair."

"Did you decide yet?" Max called. "I don't really want to waste my time here."

"Alright!" Elena yelled, and stepped out of the car. "I'm coming."

I grasped her hand in mine tightly. "I'll keep you safe," I promised.


	7. AFTER

I wait outside the office, watching all the other patients walk by. One of them, a boy, stares at me. He's in group with me, but I've forgotten his name.

"Good luck," he murmurs as he passes.

I nod, not sure what else to say, when the door opens and a woman steps out. She's blonde and tall, with green eyes and dimples.

"Max?" she looks down at me, and smiles. "I'm Lydia Stanford, the facility's psychiatrist. Would you like to come in?"

I stand and walk into her office, where I sit in one of the chairs across from her desk. She takes a seat and pulls out a folder from her bottom drawer.

"Wyatt tells me you're not sleeping well," she says. "Are you still having nightmares?"

I blink at her, wondering how she knows that since this is our first meeting. Then I realize that she needs to know about her patients before she meets with them. She needs to know the root of the sessions.

"Sometimes," I say. "I don't really want to talk, if it's all the same to you."

Stanford nods and consults her notes. "You went through something terrible. You lost someone you cared about."

"Care," I say. "You said cared. Past tense. I still care, even though he's gone."

"What about your friend Elena?"

"We don't talk. She blames me for what happened."

"But it's not your fault."

"It was my idea to go there," I tell her. "I'd heard the legend, I knew what happened there. That people died." I drop my head into my hands. "Why didn't it just kill me?" I whisper.


	8. BEFORE

The house was two stories. As we walked up the front steps, we noticed that the door was old; it whined as the wind picked up around us.

Max pulled it open, and shown a light inside.

An old, musty smell met my nose, and something worse. Something rotten. The scent made my stomach clench.

"I'm going to throw up," I said.

Elena slipped a hand along my shoulders, and I shivered. But I knew it wasn't from her touch. It was because I knew there was _something_ here.

"Don't be a wimp," Max said.

"Do you not smell that?" I snapped. "It's gross." I looked at Elena. "How are you doing?"

"Terrified," Max said for her.

"I'm okay," she muttered, glaring at him.

Max sighed. "Enough of this, guys. Come on. I want to explore."

"You want to investigate the legend," I said, straightening up. "You want to see if it's true. Don;t you realize how dangerous that is?"

Max laughed.

"We could die like the others," Elena whispered.

"The car has heat," Max responded, annoyed. "Go wait in it for us. We won't be long."

"This is a bad idea," she told us.

Elena trembled, and pulled away from me. The flashlight faced her; she turned back toward the door, just as it slammed shut.


	9. AFTER

"Elena wanted to leave, but she couldn't. The house wouldn't let her."  
  
Dr. Stanford raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean by that, Max? That's an uncommon way to phrase something like that."  
  
"It didn't want her to leave," I answer irritably. "The door slammed shut."  
  
Lydia scribbles something down, then glances at the clock on her desk. I feel like I've been talking for hours, I'm so tired.  
  
"We can continue this another time," she says, as if sensing my mood. "Is that okay with you?"  
  
I nod, stand, and am out the door before she can say another word.  
  


**

  
  
The rec room is empty, so I sit on the couch and close my eyes. I don't want to be in my room right now.  
  
"Hey, Max," a voice says.  
  
I crack an eye open and look at the person across the room. They're sitting on the floor, legs crossed, and hands in their lap. They're trying to cover something up, and I have to squint to see what it is. But when the smell hits me, I know.  
  
It's metallic, nauseating.  
  
My insides turns over.  
  
"You look sick," he tells me. "Almost like you've seen a ghost."  
  
Then Dom smiles, and shifts so I see the blood pooling out of his stomach. It slides down his pants, and I can't look at him anymore.  
  
"What—why—" I gasp, but I can't finish my thought.  
  
I lean over and throw up.


	10. BEFORE

"What the hell just happened?" Elena whispered.  
  
I tried the door, but it wouldn't open. "I don't know," I said, turning to look at her and Max. "But it's stuck."  
  
"I guess you have to stay," Max said, but he sounded unhappy about it. "Good for us," he murmured. He flicked the light around, examining the house. "All this stuff is so old. I wonder if there's any kind of canned food here."  
  
"I think we should check out the rest of the house," I said. "Come on."  
  
Using the flashlight, we navigated in relative silence. Outside, the wind howled, ripping through the cornfield. The sound was unsettling.  
  
"God, that's creepy," Elena whispered. Behind me, she stumbled. "Son of bitch. Max, keep the light ahead of us, I tripped over the couch."  
  
Max laughed.  
  
"You're an ass," she snapped.  
  
I tuned them out and listened to the sounds around us. When I heard a slight tapping along the walls, I stopped walking.  
  
"Guys."  
  
"You didn't even want to come!" Max snapped. "You were too scared."  
  
"This is dangerous," Elena replied. "I told you. We all know about the stories."  
  
"Oh my God."  
  
I turned. "Guys, shut up, will you? Listen."  
  
"Dom, I don't care if you agree with her or not."  
  
"No," I said. "_Listen_. The noise. Do you hear it?"  
  
They stopped bickering and fell quiet.  
  
There was a rustling along the outside of the house, like something scrapping across the wood. Then something moved by the window on the other side of the room.  
  
"Max, stop it," I said. "That's not funny."  
  
"It wasn't me."  
  
His voice was coming from next to me.


	11. AFTER

Light dances between my eyes, and my head aches. I try to move, but then the room begins to spin. My stomach lurches again.  
  
"What happened?" I say in a groggy voice.  
  
Someone bends over me. It's Lydia.  
  
"You had an episode," she tells me calmly. "Do you remember what happened after you left my office?"  
  
An episode? What the hell did that mean?  
  
"What are you talking about?" I ask. I look around. "Where is the doctor?"  
  
"He wants me to speak with you," she says. "He's not sure if being here is helping or hurting you right now, Max. You've been through a lot. But I think maybe you should be in a more stable environment."  
  
"Can I go home?"  
  
She considers it, then shakes her head. "Not yet, I'm afraid. They want to keep you for observation, at least for a while. But I called your mom. She's been worried about you."  
  
"She's just worried about her reputation. Having a son in a mental facility isn't exactly going to help her. I need to go home as soon as possible, though." I push myself up, and wince. "I saw Dom," I say.  
  
Lydia's eyes widen. "You saw your dead best friend?"  
  
"Yes," I murmur. "He's here."  
  
She looks around. "Here in the room with us?"  
  
"No. Before. In the rec room. He was bleeding from the wound in his stomach—where the sickle went in."  
  
"And why do you think he's here now?"  
  
I pull my legs up to my chest and shiver. "He wants revenge," I whisper. "He blames me for his death."


	12. BEFORE

"Are you bullshitting me?" I asked.  
  
"No, I swear. That wasn't me." Max shifted beside me, then used his flashlight to look around the room. "Is there something in here with us?"  
  
"Don't," Elena whispered anxiously. "He's not in here—he's _out_ there. In the cornfield."  
  
Max laughed. "El, there's nothing out there."  
  
"You know there is!" she snapped. "What do you think all those stories are about? Those people died because that thing killed them."  
  
"Please. They died because they were old, or because their spouses killed them. The last couple who lived here, the wife supposedly found the husband's body. She said someone broke in and stabbed him, but there was no sign of forced entry."  
  
"You read too much fiction," Elena said. "His murder wasn't done by something human."  
  
As I listened to them, I kept hearing things underneath their words—something calling to me. Without thinking about it, I turned around and pulled the door open, walked outside, and fell to my knees.  
  
And a shadow fell over me.


End file.
